Garage Band Mondays
by Tearziel
Summary: Kagome's a guy, Miroku's a former Canadian porn star, and Inuyasha is thrown into a blind rage at the sight of green. Throw that in with a national, televised, competition that offers the chance of a lifetime and what do you get? Absolute ridiculousness
1. Prologue

A/N: I like to listen to music as I read, so to go along with whatever stuff I'm writing, there's going to be a "soundtrack" if you will. If you want to listen to the songs yippee for you, if not…then…I'm crying on the inside. Really. I am. Can't you tell?

Anyway, let's get started.

I don't own any part of Inuyasha or any of the songs I use. They belong to the artist and Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. sad

Soundtrack: _Mad World_ by Gary Jules

_Prologue_

I didn't wait for my last chord to fade before I grabbed my guitar and ran off the stage. I couldn't hear anything except for the pounding of my blood in my ears. Were they cheering? Were they in shock? I did drop quite the bombshell, but I hope they don't hate me.

I ran off the stage, away from the bright lights and the glaring people, clutching my guitar around its neck hard enough to leave indents from the frets. But I didn't care. All I cared about was I just ruined the biggest chance of my life, but I didn't care because I wasn't lying to anyone anymore.

I slowed down to catch my breath. What will they say? Now I'm scared. I decided to head to my room. I better start packing, that way, when they kick me out I can just leave.

I left the guitar case in my room, so I released the death grip I had on the poor thing and run out the back door of the studio. I think everyone is still in shock from my revelation, so there's no one to ask for an autograph or for a picture. But then again, they might just hate me. My eyes water at the thought.

I walk into the hotel and get in the elevator. It still smells funny, but at least there's nobody there. There were no shouts from anyone in the lobby. Do they hate me to?

I get off on my floor and take my room key out of my pocket and swiped it through my door.

All the lights are off, but what else is there supposed to be? We were in such a hurry to get out. We were excited. I mean who wouldn't be? We were the finalists. After tonight, we were going to be famous. Let me rephrase that. One of us was going to be famous. And because of me, Inuyasha is going to be a star.

I always knew it was going to come down to him and me. It was a feeling in my gut that just wouldn't go away. So I tried to avoid him. Good fat lot that did me. Now the only thing I can hope for is that they don't hate me. But really, I could get by if they did.

What I really mean is that I hope _he_ doesn't hate me. But he probably will. After all I hurt him the most I suppose. My eyes tear up at that, and a few leak out and fall down my cheeks.

I realize I'm still holding my guitar, so I put it away in the case and fall back on my bed. I don't bother kicking off my shoes or anything. I can't help it. I'm too exhausted.

As the adrenaline and the excitement of today begin to wear off, everything I've been pushing away slamming back into my consciousness, and I remember…


	2. Mistaken Identity

I don't own Inuyasha or any of the songs. They are owned by Rumiko Takahashi and their respective owners, respectively. I also don't own anything I happen to mention in passing, the only thing I do own is the plot. That's it.

Soundtrack: _Here with Me_ by Plumb

_Collide_ by Anarchy Club 

Chapter 1: Mistaken Identity 

The first time I won any kind of contest was the day this all started.

About a week beforehand, I was driving in my car with my girlfriend Sango when one of those dumb radio quizzes popped up asking some pointless question about some song by some band. They played a short clip from the song and if you knew the clip, you called in and answered the question.

The prize for today's quiz was time in the nearby recording studio. I wasn't really paying attention, because in all honesty, I hate the radio. I mean come on! Five minutes of music and then ten of commercials? What is that? There is enough advertising everywhere else, so there is no need to waste my ear's time with ridiculous nonsense like bowel obstruction medicine or a hot tub that sings to you when the jets turn on.

Sango on the other hand, loves the radio. Let me rephrase that. Sango does not love the radio. According to her, there are only two loves of life. One is martial arts. That is understandable I suppose-her father won some kind of award or something like that, and it's the only thing Sango and her father have in common. Like this one time, Sango stuck her tongue out at her dad-she was making fun of him I think. The girl does this to everyone mind you. It's second nature to her. Well, her father didn't like this to much, so he grabbed her tongue and squirted a whole bunch of hand sanitizer on it. Sango just stood there wide eyed and watched the stuff evaporate. She told me later that her tongue was numb for hours. She hasn't used hand sanitizer since.

Her other love is Dane Cook. You know him right? Comedian, dark hair, in a couple movies? Yeah, she's in love with him. She's see every one of his acts and all of his movies. She got everything from DVDs to CDs to t-shirts. If he looked at it, she has it.

He does this one skit about car alarms. He makes a song out of the car alarms, and Sango memorized it, and every time we get in my car, she sings it. It gets annoying after awhile.

"Hello? I'm a car! Gasoline makes me run. Hello? Let's go for a ride! Oil is my blood. Backseat…Radio knobs…."

………

See what I mean? Every single time.

So Sango and I were driving down the road listening to the radio (much to my chagrin) when that stupid quiz came up playing a clip from Anarchy Club's _Collide_.

"I love this song!" I yelled as I turned up the volume. When the radio plays something I actually like I crank it as high as my ears allow. It doesn't work very well for conversation but boy does my car bounce.

The song abruptly stopped so my volume turning was wasted, and I cringed as the nasally voice of the DJ came up.

"…If you know the title of this song and the artist call in and if you're the ninth caller you-"it was at that point that Sango screeched at me while slamming the volume button down.

"You should call in Kagome! You might actually win!" she screamed at me while handing me her phone.

I hate phones. I hate talking on phones so I just stared at the black monstrosity before turning my attention back to the road.

My silence was all the hint Sango needed, so to spite me, she dialed and let it ring.

I don't know how it happened but the next thing I hear is Sango saying

"My name is Kagome. Kagome Higurashi!"

…………..

…WHAT?!?! My head whips around so fast I hear my neck pop a bit. My hands jerked along with my head so the car decided to join the fun and swerve with of me. If I had to pick a word to describe myself, it would be uniquely coordinated. Well, that's two words, but that's not the point. I'm convinced my neurons are wired in strange ways so my spasticness is not my fault. Just so you know.

So that's how I ended up here, in front of the Major/Minor Recording Studio, home to almost every famous musical production ever. If you're famous, then there is a ninety nine point nine nine nine nine nine nine (you get the picture) chance that you have come in contact with MM Productions. They own a piece in well…every thing.

All I had with me today was my electric guitar, which I carried on my back and my amp which was held tightly in my right hand. I was going to bring some more stuff, but of course, I woke up late today.

I set my alarm to get me up in plenty of time, but I'm a paranoid sleeper. I tend to wake up when I think something is going to happen to me, and at some point in the night, the caustic glaring of those red numbers scared me. From the pieces lying on the floor of my room this morning, I assumed I kicked it, but that's only speculation. I usually end up kicking it, but sometimes I've thrown it, dropped it out my second story window, attempted to flush it down the toilet, and a whole slew of other things.

So I'm late.

I role out of bed, and after checking my watch and realizing how late I was I entered panic mode. When I enter panic mode, blood doesn't get to the thinking parts of my brain, so important things, like deodorant tend to be forgotten. I had also been meaning to do some laundry but that didn't happen.

I ran into my brother's room and grabbed some of his clothes. He's a couple of years younger than me, but he's a big kid so when I wear his clothes I end swimming in them. My hair kept flying in my face and I realized I hadn't showered, so on my way out, I grabbed one of his baseball hats and tucked my hair in it so it didn't show. As I passed the mirror in the hallway, I couldn't help but glance at it and realize how boy like I looked. My brother's black hoodie successfully "degenderized" my front, and his pants well, they're boy's pants people! What was I supposed to do with those?

I grabbed my keys and flew out the door to my car.

Then I flew back in, ran up the stairs to my room, and picked up my guitar and amp. Next I had to fight with them the entire way back to the car before manhandling them into my backseat. Then I was finally on my way.

Which was how I ended up here, in my brother's grungy, baggy clothes with a Yankee baseball hat placed rather haphazardly on my head covering up my greasy unruly mass of blue-black hair.

With a deep sigh of exaggeration I managed to drag myself up the stairs and into the front door. I came to a large waiting room connected to all kinds of doors and hallways, so if I went down there, I knew I would be hopelessly lost, and knowing my luck, I'd be lost forever and turn into a bitter old maid cursing everyone and whining about the good ol' days.

I sank down into a chair, causing a puff of air to escape my lungs and waited for the secretary to come back from wherever she went. And so I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

In reality, all this waiting was probably only ten minutes or so, but I'm not the most patient person, and asking for help from anyone makes me want to curl up in a corner and die. I'm suicidal or anything, I just don't like people. Remember how I said I was a paranoid sleeper? That stems from the fact that I believe people are constantly judging me.

So…yeah…

So me, being the wonderful independent eighteen year old I was I picked a hallway and was on my way. The one I picked was on the right side of the room, and the floor was shiny. It might have been waxed recently. Did I mention I like shiny things? Hold one up to the light and I'll completely lose my train of thought. Like a raccoon. Or a demented prospector looking for gold in a salt mine.

I kept walking down the shiny hallway (it glowed like a new penny-and that's another thing I can't stand. Pennies. I mean, who thought up that idea? All the other ones are silver. Why use copper? It's a misfit!) until I heard voices. They all sounded exasperated and tired. They need coffee, because that's the adult's fix all. Like that guy from _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ who was obsessed with Windex. It's like that, except for everyone.

Thinking they could help me find my studio, I strolled in and put my things on the floor. Carting those bad boys around for so long so a number on my muscles. I stretched them out, doing arms circles and massaging my neck.

There were five people in the room and they were all sitting at a table on the other side of the room. A couple of them were rubbing their temples one of them had her head down and was banging it on the table, while the other two had whipped out their cell phones and proceeded to scream various expletives which I don't fell comfortable repeating.

I cleared my throat which announced my presence. My mouth started to form a question, but was cut off by the man on the end. He gave me the creeps. His eyes which were brown, seemed a kind of dull red, and they looked dead. Emotionless. No higher brain function. Nobody's home. Poor guy.

He just sighed and managed to strangle out something along the lines of "Unpack your stuff and play your solo." I think that's what he said anyway. So, not wanting to offend the nice man, I did what he said. All of the people looked like they could snap at any moment. Would you want to offend people who are possibly going through a mid life crisis? It's like the great Dane Cook says in another one of his skits.

When you're at work, there's always this one creepy guy. But this is the guy that will end up going crazy and killing people, so make sure you give the guy some candy. That way, when he goes on a rampage, he'll stop by your cubicle, whisper "Thanks for the Snickers" and proceed to shoot everyone else around you.

See what I mean?

So if playing my music can be a Snickers for them and save my life, I'm all for it.

I get all set up with my guitar hanging down from the strap. My fingers flutter across the fret board as my mind goes blank and I enter panic mode. I'm grasping for anything, but I don't think well under pressure. So I grab the last thing I remember.

Out from my guitar comes the opening chords of _Collide _by Anarchy Club. The song that got me in this mess is the only stinking thing that my stupid mind could come up with! Jeez.

But a funny thing happens. As I keep playing, those crazy people start to perk up. When I get to the solo in the middle (my favorite part by the way) all of them are at attention. No rubbing heads or vulgar expletives. They're all focused on me.

Did I mention I'm paranoid and scared of people, and judgment etc? I can feel the sweat starting, but I can't stop. So instead, I stare at my hands as I play one of my favorite songs.

When the song comes to a close they're all staring at me, and I'm blushing, just standing there stupidly. I start to shuffle my feet, scoffing my toes against the shiny floor. Did I mention the shiny hallway extended into the room? It made the shiny floor. That was a pick me at least.

The creepy man stared at me. Then he said "Boy. What's your name?"

I don't do well in social situations with strangers. As my parents always say "Stranger Danger". I actually had that phrase made into a bumper sticker and stuck it on my locker. I am so cool sometimes I astound even myself.

Anyway, I'm going into panic mode. Blood rushing everywhere, my mind grasping at straws. I didn't register that he called me boy. I was having problems with the name part. If my guitar can regurgitate an entire song, you'd think my brain would be smart enough to come up with some kind of answer, but I'm pretty sure all that's going to come out of my mouth is a noncommittal grunt of some kind. But, much to my surprise, I stutter out:

"Go." They all looked up at me sharply. I'm pretty convinced that they're convinced I have Turrets or something.

But Go was an actual acceptable answer. I surprised myself. When my brother was little he was a…how to say this…well, my mom called him an atomic pooer. Meaning he went often and a lot. So my parents ended up saying the word "go" a lot around him. So his first word was "go". Made my parents proud that boy. When he realized there was a "go" in my name (Ka-GO-me, just so you know) he started calling me "Go". Not the most dignified name and he stopped when he discovered other words like appetizer. But that's a whole other story.

So Creepy Red Man was still staring at me as I wandered around Day Dream Land. A subtle cough got my attention.

"Go. Go Higurashi."

After a brief and quiet huddle in the corner with the other people he walked over to me and grasped my hand, shaking it with enthusiasm.

I wanted to cringe, not only because his hands felt like sand paper, but because he was a stranger and I don't like being touched.

His next words changed my life forever.

"Well Go Higurashi, welcome to Garage Band. You have been chosen to proceed to the next round of the competition. If you win, you will become part of a band created solely by the American public. You could undoubtedly become one the most famous guitarists ever."


	3. Decisions and Some Modern Art

A/N: I never realized how happy reviews and such make people. So thanks to CanineKagome who reviewed-it made me all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I don't own Inuyasha or any of the songs I use. Songs are owned by their respective bands, and Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.

Soundtrack: _I Hate Everyone _by Get Set Go

_No Sleep Tonight_ by Faders

Chapter 2: Decisions and Some Modern Art

"What am I supposed to do?" I said as I rapidly paced the floor in Sango's basement.

Silence.

I looked over at Sango who was supposed to be sitting on the couch, but she wasn't there. Letting out an exasperated sigh I looked over at the TV while pinching the bridge of my nose. I could feel the headache coming. The only time the headaches come is when Sango is flaking out. I mean come on! We're supposed to be best friends, and I'm in a major dilemma, but instead of being with me and supporting me, she's plastered against the TV watching Dane Cook on _Tourgasm_.

Jeez. Obsessed fan girls. Wait a second…IS SHE LICKING THE TV? EWW!

I rush over and pry her away from her electronic love, and then push her to the floor. There's only one way to get her attention when she's like this, and I really hate to do it. But it's the only way.

"You have camel toe." I calmly say to her.

That gets her up really fast. She pushes me off her and runs to the bathroom hunched over, trying to cover herself up as much as possible. I snicker. Sure I lied, but you have to admit, what's so scary about your best friend seeing your camel toe? That's what friends are for. To tell you when your dandruff is really bad or if you have something in your teeth.

After five minutes or so Sango comes storming out of the bathroom only to find the Dane Cook unplugged and the TV's power cord missing. She lets out a puff of air which causes her bangs to fly up in all directions and then sits beside me on the couch. I'm reading the booklet the Creepy Red Man-whose name is Naraku I guess- gave me. It has all the rules of this competition or whatever.

It turns out the people I saw the other day are major executives from companies all across America. Since people seemed to like _American Idol_ so much, they decided to develop a show where America makes its own rock band. There are four brackets a person can audition to enter: Singing, Guitar, Drum, and Bass. I mistakenly entered the Guitarist audition, and I must say- they loved me. They really loved me! Ah, so dramatic.

The only problem with the audition was the fact that the execs were convinced that I was a boy. A boy named "Go Higurashi". Very rock n roll. Oh boy.

"I should-"

"No you shouldn't." Sango interrupted. "Think about it. You're about to enter a national competition. This is the chance of a life time! And not only that, Garage Band is supposed to make a rock band. Do you seriously think anyone would have taken you seriously as a girl? How many spectacular, famous, female guitarists are there Kagome?"

I grumble something neither of us can make out, but Sango knows what I mean.

"Exactly. Kagome Higurashi is a great, amazing guitarist, but she wasn't made to be in a band. She's to shy and quirky." She took a breath before continuing. "But Go Higurashi, he has the chance to do great things. No one will question his greatness, and nobody knows who the heck he is."

"Kagome, you have the chance to remake yourself and be a guitar hero like you always wanted." I open my mouth to protest but stupid Sango. "Don't even lie to me and tell me you don't want to play guitar on tour with other great musicians. I've seen how many times you play that stupid _Guitar Hero _game. Now you have a chance to live it." She pauses and collects herself while I just sit on the couch in silence.

Sango, thinking I'm still not totally sold on the idea adds, "Plus, if you're famous, I can totally meet some famous people and rub it in Kohaku's face."

Kohaku is Sango's younger brother and a total pain in the butt. When he got his first screen name Sango put all her friends on his buddy list to give him someone to talk to, but he ended up calling them something along the line of #$!, so I'm the only one who still talks to him. Even then I can hardly talk to him because he uses that horrible internet lingo crap. You know what I mean right? Instead of typing you they put "u" and a 2 for to. Stuff like that. Is it to much of an effort to type the whole word? Does everyone have a stinking letter quota they hit every day, and once they've filled their quota all bets are off? Fend for yourself among my language arts skills people! Blah. Lazy, lazy bums.

So getting back to the point, Kohaku is somewhat of a brat sometimes, and he always seems to get away with it. Sango's parents never catch him in the act, and choose to blame Sango instead, so anytime she can rub something in his face, she does it without hesitation.

So after that little speech from Sango, I figured what the heck. It's a great opportunity. People would hear me play, and I'd get to strike a blow for women everywhere! As a…man. Does that even make the least bit of sense?

So that was how I decided to compete in Garage Band, which airs on Monday nights at 8, so be sure to tune in.

But there's a tiny tiny itsy bitsy problem here people.

How does one go about masquerading as a boy? I personally have never done it, and if you have, well, there's a fine mental institution about twelve blocks from my house if you're interested. I'm sure if you all get together you can get a great group rate.

I told Sango of my dilemma, but she just whipped out her black monstrosity (aka her cell phone) and dialed a number. The next thing I knew, Sango grabbed my hand, shoved my keys in it and was pulling me up the steps. Now, I'm not the most graceful human being on the planet, and if I'm not in control of where I'm going, then this sucker's going down. And in this case, it was literally.

My sneaker caught on the lip of the step so I went flying up the steps and into Sango's back. Since we were near the top of the steps Sango ended up flying face first into the door frame.

After she regained consciousness, I told her the bruising should be gone in a day or two. The bruising to the door frame however... (Let me just say that Sango's head is freaking huge! Who knew a nose could leave that big of an indentation?)

After that, we made it out of the house without further mishap and on our way to Rin's house. I don't know why I didn't think of Rin when I came up with my identity crisis. I mean the girl knows anything that has to do girly stuff like that. Hair, make-up, fingernails, bikini waxes. If a girl can do it, she's done it. Except for a pedicure. The girl is terrified of feet. It's kind of funny actually. We went to see the _Lord of the Rings_ movies, and Rin could never stay very long because of the hobbit feet. Great movies though.

So we get to her house, and it can't be soon enough because Sango was moaning out loud about her face. It's not like she needs to impress anyone with it. The girl can't get a boyfriend to save her life. It's not like she isn't attractive, the opposite actually. She's got this straight, glossy black hair which is either tied loosely at the end, or up in a ponytail if she's in the butt kicking mood. This one sappy romantic guy equated her eyes to "the pools of cinnamon sugar on a piece of toast". Cough cough. Yeah that guy was one of my favorites. At least he was good for a laugh.

Sango has no problem attracting the boys, but her idea of the end of a romantic evening is a good old fashioned arm wrestle. If they beat her, they get a second date. If they don't well…they only lose their pride and sprain their elbows, so it's all good.

We pile out of my car, Sango clearly milking her injury as much as possible with her ice pack clutched to her face. I ring the bell and wait for the tell tale pounding of feet on the steps. Rin is not a subtle person, and couldn't be quiet or sneaky if she tried. She's loud and has really bad foot in mouth disease. The girl doesn't have a mean bone in her body, but she has no sense of, well, I guess discretion is the word. I'll give you an example.

There was a new student in our class back in sophomore year. I don't remember what her name was, but she was at least half Native American. Cherokee I think. All during class Rin had been bouncing up and down, or swinging her legs, or shuffling her papers, or some other annoying action. After class we had lunch, so when the bell rang Rin jumped out of her seat to follow the new girl to the cafeteria. She catches up with her at the end of the lunch line, then leans against the wall and asks (innocently), "Are you and alcoholic and a gambler? Because I read somewhere that all Native Americans are alcoholics and gamblers."

Yeah, that nailed Rin in detention and her school nickname was Racist. Oh good times. Who doesn't miss high school?

The door opens to reveal our tiny brunette friend, who is now…blonde?! Gah! I think I choked on some spit at this point.

Rin took us upstairs into her overly pink and fluffy room where Sango explained the situation. After hearing my plight, Rin squealed with glee. She's always wanted to do a make over on me you see, but I've never let her. I guess letting her change me into a boy is better than nothing.

She starts buzzing around the room, picking up hair gels and makeup, or throwing around her stuffed animals. She pauses, takes a deep breath, then whips around, advancing on me with an evil glint in her eye. She grabs me and throws me in the chair which lies in front of her vanity. I'm assuming that she's assuming I'm going to run away, so she handcuffs me to the arm rests. Sometimes I question my choice of friends.

And so the make over began.

Hours Later….

Has anyone ever told you how boring makeovers are? And I'm guessing they're painful. Just thinking about getting my eyebrows plucked makes me shiver. Don't misinterpret me, I DO NOT HAVE A UNIBROW. But it looks painful to have eyebrows plucked. And who knows what's in that mask goop they put on your face.

Sango let Rin give her a make over once. She put the goop on Sango's face and then Sango's face ended up fire engine red for about a week. And she "plucked outside of Sango's designated brow line", as I'm told. No idea what that means, but it made Sango look surprised for a month. I laughed out loud just thinking about it. Sango and Rin didn't even glance up. They know by now never to question me when I suddenly burst out laughing. They accept that my brain works in mysterious ways.

"Okay Kagome, or should I say Go? We're all done." Rin says to me while unlocking the handcuffs. I rub my wrists to get the circulation going again and clasp the clothes Sango shoved into my hands. She pointed to the bathroom and said "Don't look at yourself", so I meekly complied.

She gave me some khaki boy's cargo pants and a loose black t shirt for the top, as well as long strip of cloth which I think is to tie my breasts down in some way. I stare at it for a few minutes then start stripping.

Ten minutes and two falls in the tub later I'm all dressed and tied down. I walked back into Rin's room and sat down in the chair, which was facing away from the mirror. Rin was in the closet, rummaging around for something. She surfaced carrying a black watch with one of those wide wrist bands like boys seem to wear. She snapped it on my arm and spun my chair around. And I was finally able to look at myself. When I did, I gasped and stood straight up.

My hair, which normally fell to my shoulder blades, had been tucked up into a wig which had a similar hair style to my little brother's. Some of the bangs managed to fall in front of my blue eyes, making them blink and water a little. Fake sideburns had been added by my ears, as well as beastly eyebrows. Think Stalin's moustache, just on two sides of my head.

My boob cloth did a good job of smashing my chest into a smaller size, and the shirt hid any bumps that I might have. The pants were baggy but not to loose, and with a belt, I'm sure they'd stay up just fine. That was a relief. I mean think about it. How are baggy pants attractive? If I wanted to see a guy's butt or his boxers I'd date the guy. Most guys flaunt something they just shouldn't bring attention to.

Rin did such a good job making me a boy I couldn't help it. I did a little jig dance thing. Now mind you, I don't dance. It's not a pretty sight, but it consists of me, bopping up, and then bending at the knees to go down, then back up. Not fantastic, but at least I don't fall.

"Rin this is amazing! I almost didn't recognize myself! And boys clothes are surprisingly comfortable." I say as I proceed to pet my clothes. They were really soft. Rin must use a lot of fabric softener and dryer sheets.

"Kagome, you are my work of art. And now you will be my Barbie, because we have to go shopping to get you a bunch of clothes." Rin said as she gathered her purse and coat. "And since you are going to be boy, we are going to treat you like one. You get to carry the bags." Sango laughed an evil laugh at that one. But I wasn't worried, because I would get her back. I know all her weaknesses.

And so a month passed. Every day I practiced my guitar for a couple hours before going over to Rin's for my boy lessons. Sango suffered a bunch of mishaps due to her poor attitude. One of my favorites was when I put methylene blue in her juice when I was over at her house for breakfast. The girl has cups and cups of it everyday, and she left it unguarded. I put a whole bunch in each glass, and she didn't even taste the difference. But oh did she see the difference later. She peed green for three days. Happy early St. Patrick's Day! (And no matter what she says, the doctor bill wasn't that much, and her insurance paid for it anyway.)

So the day finally came. The day I would officially enter Garage Band as eighteen year old Go Higurashi, Guitar Hero extraordinaire! Or at least I hoped so. The only things I could bring were clothes and my instruments. So I packed all the clothes Rin bought me, as well as some of my own, just in case I needed to be a girl for some reason. It never hurts to be prepared. I also brought two of my guitars with me, a regular acoustic which had been my mother's, and my electric which was a birthday present when I turned sixteen. I threw it all in my car (I didn't throw the guitars though. They were placed very carefully in my backseat while all the other crap went in the back) locked the doors, and then went back up to the house to say good bye. The only people I could say good bye to though was Rin and Sango. My father was probably "off on business", Souta (my brother) was at summer camp, and my mom was, well…we don't talk about her.

Rin and Sango wished me luck, and promised they'd come and visit when they could. It shouldn't be too hard I figure. Garage Band is being hosted in the city, which is only a couple of hours away from our town. I never realized the city was good for anything until now.

I hugged Rin before moving on to Sango. I couldn't help but giggle when I saw her. She made the mistake of making fun of me again, so last night at our last hoorah before I left I decided to do my own art. Sango is a heavy sleeper, and my Sharpie collection never came in handy like this. So for future reference, if someone uses your skin as a pallet, it does come off-eventually. Soap and water works, but hand sanitizer worked the best. I offered mine to Sango, but she just glared then punched me on the arm, leaving a bruise. She looks at everything in such a negative light. She needs to look at the glass half full I say. Now she knows that if she ever grows a moustache, she'll look just fine in a furry mountain man kind of way.

I finally manage to pull myself away from them, but just as I'm leaving they pull me back and Rin places a small, rectangular thing in my hand. I look down and it's a silver monstrosity I can call my own! Yay! (Hear the sarcasm? I'm trying to make it drip here people.)

"Now before you go off on us Kagome, think of it this way." Rin explains. "If you get in a freak accident we're just a phone call away. For emergencies. Otherwise, just keep it off."

"You just wanted to be in someone's speed dial didn't you?"

Their sheepishness was my answer.

I can't help but laugh at them. I hug them one more time before dropping into my car and pulling out of the driveway, ready to meet my destiny.


	4. Welcome to Garage Band

A/N: Hey everyone. I'm back. So a bunch of crazy things happened. I got bogged down with school, then my computer got a virus from Limewire so I had to have my hard drive wiped, so I lost everything-mostly my music-and I can't write this thing without it. Then my dog got hit by a car and everything got put to the wayside.

Anyway, it's getting close to finals, so I figured I'd try to update before I can't anymore. And from now on, the only songs I'm going to put in the Soundtrack thingee are the songs they play, unless someone really wants to know what songs I listen to while I'm writing. I don't know why you would though. Also, I'm going to warn you, when I started writing this thing I was suffering from Guitar Hero withdrawals, so if you notice a lot of the songs from the Guitar Hero game series, that's why.

One last thing, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed-shikiori(nsi), Bronwyn, and CanineKagome.

Soundtrack:

_When All Hope Has Faded-_ Unknown, zircon (Chrono Trigger ReMix)

Chapter 3: Welcome to Garage Band

The drive to the city was uneventful. The entire way I blasted the music on my mp3 player and thought about what would happen when I got to the hotel. What would it be like? Would the other kids like me and play nice? Ha. Sometimes I really wish I was back in elementary school, so the kids had to play with me and be nice. When you're an adult people are evil. They'll spread lies behind your back one second, and then smile and make small talk the next.

That's another thing about adults I'll never understand. Whoever thought up small talk needs to be shot. Seriously! For the first part of it, it's about the weather. When the weather's done, it's onto the job, or school, or some other mundane topic, and then before you know it, it's back to the weather. If God wasn't so giving to us humans by giving us multiple forms of weather, I swear adults would have nothing to talk about. But I digress…yet again…

Anyway, I got to the hotel and went to the front desk where my key was. And to top it off, the key was one of those key cards that you have to swipe through the scanner on the door. It's so cool and I love those things!

My room was actually a suite that I would share with a roommate who was also in the competition. The first room I entered was like a giant living room in some rich person's house. The carpet was an off-white, kind of creamy color that matched the walls and was oh so soft. The wall facing the city street was made entirely of windows so I just had to check it out, except when I got over there I remembered that I'm terrified of heights so after of course I started to panic. My heart started racing and I ran backwards straight into one of the couches, so of course I tripped and flew over the couch. I picked myself up off the shards of the glass coffee table and decided to never go near that wall ever again. I mean seriously, we had to be on at least the twenty eighth floor!

On one of the other walls was a giant plasma TV, and not just any TV, one of those new flat screen ones which came with 5.1 Surround Sound whatever that means. (There was bunch of couches and stuff surrounding the TV and spread through out the room, but it was all done in white too. I hate white. I just wanted to let you guys know that so you didn't think this hotel was a chinsy place. Quite the opposite and it smells so good!)

Underneath the TV were a bunch of cabinets which I assumed held movies and a DVD player, so I had to check it out of course, because everybody knows you can tell how your stay at a hotel was going to be based on the perks they give you in your room.

But what I didn't remember was that you can buy movies on Pay-Per-View, so there would really be no point in having a DVD collection in the room because people suck and would end up stealing things anyway. So when I opened it up, all I found was a gallon sized Ziploc bag full of powdery white stuff-it actually looked like powdered sugar-so I assumed one of the maids left it by accident and would come to get it later so I put it back. They had to come and clean up the coffee table anyway, so I didn't want them to think that I was one of those nosy customers who are always up in someone's grill.

After looking around the common room, I decided to check out the other rooms so I could get the best one. So first I opened a door on the right side of the common room and came to a beautiful bedroom. Now, I'm sure you've seen movies where someone goes to a hotel and has a beautiful room, so I'm not going to describe it, because in reality, a hotel room is just an amped up bedroom. But I will tell you it was done in shades of reds and purples, and it was attached to a bathroom, complete with shower and Jacuzzi tub. And the tub came with those smelly soaps that make everything smell fantastic. I picked this room.

And to top it all off, it also had a balcony, which I decided never to go near, because if the window incident was any indication, then I would probably end up doing something stupid.

The other room was nice too. It was pretty much the same except done in blues and greens, and instead of cucumber melon soaps they had coconut lime scented stuff. (Which, by the way, smelled so fantastic I wanted to chew my arm off after I put the lotion on because it made me very, very hungry.)

So by the time I finished checking out the room and breaking a bunch of stuff there was really no time for me to unpack my stuff because I had to meet the Garage Band people in the a private dining room downstairs. I put all my stuff-my luggage full of clothes, my guitar stuff, and my backpack-on the bed, took one last look at my boy self in the mirror, then locked the door and went downstairs by way of the elevator-and I must say-it STINKS!

If you've ever been in a dentist's office, you may know what I'm talking about. It's a caustic kind of scent that stinks to the hairs in your nose and makes you want to sneeze until your lungs pop out of your nostril. It's like a mix between old person smell, Novocain, and the anguish of having your teeth cleaned. That's what this elevator smelled like. Seriously. You'd think in a hotel they'd be able to fix it, but they probably just ignore it because they're smart enough to take the stinking stairs. But you try and walk up and down twenty eight flights of stairs!

The dining room wasn't that big, and was full of round tables covered in white table cloths that could hold about eight people each. Floor to ceiling windows lined the wall to let the early morning sun filter into the room giving it a soft, warm atmosphere. Time seemed to slow as I realized I was about to enter the next phase of my life. My entire future rested on this competition, and there was so much more I needed to do than the other guys, because really, if you think about it, how many cross dressing females can be in one competition? I had to make a good impression on these people, and the best way to do that, was well…walking into the room I guess.

Walking into a room full of your peers and associates is crucial to a first impression. Everything from the way you carry yourself to your clothes say something about you, so I had to make sure my strut was perfect. My strut left something to be desired though.

When girls walk, they try and make it look dainty or cute, and try to find ways to flaunt their assets. When guys walk, it's usually purposeful and powerful-straight and to the point. When I walk, I walk by putting one foot in front of the other and hope that I can get where I need to go without injuring anyone, because, I, I'm sorry to say, am spastic.

I have weak ankles so then tend to turn on me so I fall. One second I'll be talking to Sango on the sidewalk, the next she'll look over and I'm lying in a pothole of my own creation. My arms flail because I'm also usually always late, and the only way I can relieve my stress is by flailing my arms, but then I tend to hit people. (That was one of the reasons why my parents got me a car. After I failed at walking I tried biking, but we discovered that my arm flailing is not limited to walking. But, in my defense, that old lady was going to get hit by a car if I hadn't gotten to her first. That's how slow she was.) So where was I? Oh yes, the dining room.

As I stood frozen in the entryway, staring at the room, this guy totally slammed into my back making me fall flat on my face, and then, to add insult to injury, he fell top of me with an "oomph", and absolutely no apology! He got up quickly from the floor, but I was not so lucky. I groaned on the floor a little, trying to make him feel guilty and offer up an apology, but to no avail. After I made sure my wig was on tight and none of my hair was falling out from underneath it, I pulled myself to my feet and stared at the guy.

He was about a head taller then me, and had a fierce scowl on his face. And when I say fierce, I mean it. Have you ever seen that episode of _Scrubs _where the Janitor, Nurse Roberts, and Ted are trying to give Carla a dirty look because she's filling in for Dr. Kelso? They have the creepy ritual sacrifice music going on, the Janitor's all squinty eyed, and Ted is just, well, Ted. The music cuts out and the Janitor said something about them not giving dirty looks and Ted says the only look he's got is the sad and defeated one.

MAN! I heart Ted.

Anyway, it was like that. This guy staring down at me all fierce like and it made me a little afraid. Now, under normal circumstances, if I was my Kagome self instead of Go, I'd cringe and run away in fear, but I was not Kagome, so I don't care how many silver-haired, golden eyed guys gave me the stink eye! I'm not going to take it! Especially when I think I popped a disk in my spine! (I made sure I lowered my voice like Rin taught me before yelling at the guy. I had to hide my identity you see.)

"Watch where you're going crap head!"

"Watch where I'm going?! You're the one standing in the middle of the door way staring at everything like a convicted felon in a whore house!"

"What the heck does that even mean?! You're the one that ran into me! If I was taking up as much space as you said I was, maybe you should look where you're going and then get a new prescription four eyes!" (I must say, I was very good at insults back then.)

He started looking really frustrated at this point.

"What are you? Four?!"

This was the point where he growled and shoved past me into the room. I resisted the urge to wince and pout, because guys don't do that kind of thing. They are not pansies! They suck it up! But OW OW OW!

The only perk of this little encounter was that I didn't need to worry about making an entrance or a fool of myself. It was already done for me.

Thanks to ol' Crap Head, everyone was staring at me and I no longer had to worry about making a good impression, because well…yeah…

So instead of standing in the door way anymore and looking like an idiot, I just went and sank down into the nearest table which had a bunch of guys there and was far away from Crap Head. I also made a mental note to stay away from him for the rest of the competition. Who needs a jerk?

The guy I sank down next to started talking to me at this point. He was nice. Kinda cute too. Not my kind of cute by the way, but Sango's. She's into that kind those narcissistic ego maniacs who are entirely full of themselves. And let me tell you, this guy had it in spades. This was how that conversation went, and let me tell you, I'll never forget it.

"Hi. I'm Miroku. I'm a former Canadian porn star."

Now that is a great conversation starter-and he told me this while I was taking a sip of the complementary water on our table.

After dying a little bit, I gave him a nonchalant wave and told him my name and I was here for the guitar competition. I found out he wanted to be a singer, and gave up a role in a movie called _Star Whores. _That sounds like it was going to be an instant classic don't you think? The tag line was "May the Force be in you."

Cough. Cough.

So after Miroku made me completely and utterly uncomfortable with his talk of the "optimal position for female pleasure when in a meat locker", there was one of those loud and painful microphone squeals that made everyone cover their ears and look to the back of the room. (And when I say back, I meant it was farthest from the door.)

Up at the front of the room were some long tables, and seated behind it were all the executives and creators of Garage Band. In the middle of the center table there was a podium and a microphone, and behind the podium stood Creepy Man Naraku. The meeting had begun.

"Welcome contestants to Garage Band, where we hope to find the best and the brightest of America's youth and create a beloved and best selling band." (That was a whole lot of b's! And apparently, we are the best and the brightest hoping to become beloved and best selling! I told that to Miroku and he laughed to-hey! I'm funny! Who knew?)

The guy kept rambling on and on, giving us the rules and procedures we would have to follow over the next few months. I'll give you the highlights.

Garage Band is a competition divided into four categories based on the positions in an average band-Singer, Guitarist, Drums, and Bass. The judges would divide the contests into "bands" each week and then the band would have to decide on a set list to perform to the audience. The audience would then vote for individuals in each category and then for which sound they liked the best. The latter vote was only for reference for the judges when making up the band lists. It all seemed pretty straight forward to me.

Since each band would only have four members on a given week, if a band picked a song and needed an extra guitarist or a keyboardist or something, then the executives would find a suitable fill in. They also mentioned they would try and get famous people to come and help out if they could-to increase the publicity of course.

After Naraku was done with the rules, another woman, Kanna, I think, got up and gave us the list of the first week's bands. As fate would have it, I was stuck with the singing Canadian porn star! Can I never catch a fricking break?!?! My other band mates was a guy named Shippou on the drums, and another guy named Kouga on bass.

Since I didn't know anybody except Miroku, I was at a complete loss of what to do. The first thing on my mind was getting together to practice, because we only had a week and a half before the live broadcast, and if we didn't practice and pick some decent songs, it was going to be a complete and utter suck fest.

But I guess being a porn star and seeing people naked for a living doesn't make one shy, because Miroku already knew the other members of the band, and told me to meet him in the studio in an hour and a half. He was going to collect the other members of our little group, and I imagine give his life story. I decided I had enough time to go up to my room and unpack my stuff, have a sandwich, and maybe some _Price is Right _reruns. (Why Bob Barker? Why??!)

I hopped into the nasty elevator and passed out around the fifteenth floor, only to be woken up on the twentieth by a kid with a bunch of Pokemon cards. I got to the twenty eighth and was very pleased with myself because I wrangled out a holographic Charizard from the kid (not like I collect them or anything) and swiped my card through the door-it didn't open all the way at first. I thought it might have hit something. Oh well.

I forced my way through, and since I wasn't looking where I was going because of Charizard's reptilian beauty I ran face first into a hard chest, and when I looked up, I was staring into the golden eyes of my roommate.

Oh crap.


	5. Oh Crap

Chapter 4- Oh Crap.

Oh crap.

Let me recap my current position for you.

Earlier today I went to the Garage Band meeting where some guy plowed into my back and made my face intimately close with the floor. He never apologized. He called me a convicted felon instead then he stormed off.

After the meeting I had to meet with my band mates so we could get together and practice, so I went back to my room. I took the elevator. (It always seems to lead to disaster every single time. You'd think I'd learn.)

On the elevator I came across a worthy distraction (insert cough here, and a sheepish look-everyone is entitled to a guilty pleasure.) So I opened the door a little forcefully because I was distracted which lead me here, standing in my doorway, staring up at my pissed off roommate who had blood running down his nose. So...

Oh crap.

I'm going to get philosophical for a while here. There are points in everyone's life where they can make the right choice or make a wrong choice. Here, I could choose to be the bigger person (which is a Kagome thing to do. What can I say? I'm a doormat) or I could give him what he gave to me (not something I would do). In hindsight, I don't think I made the greatest decision.

"What are you standing behind the door for genius?" I said as I pushed past him.

I could feel the anger rolling off him, and I must admit-it kinda scared me. When I looked back at him, he was clenching his fists and breathing heavily through his mouth since his nose was otherwise occupied. This was just great. Now I felt guilty.

"Are you kidding me?! You slam the door in my face and nearly break my nose and you can't even apologize-"he stopped mid rant because of my wonderful blank stare.

Seriously! Can you believe this guy? Rude, egotistical, jerk who-was bleeding because of me.

"Hey Cujo! Get off the carpet. You're leaking."

He just stared at my lack of argumentative response, so I grabbed his arm and dragged him into the little kitchenette thing our suite had. I grabbed a bunch of paper towels and soaked them in cold water before reaching up and wiping down his nose.

Oops. Dang it Kagome! Why can't you do anything right?!

His eyes got really big before they got really squinty, and he ground his teeth around a little bit before growling something out to me.

"What. Do. You. Think. You're DOING? Nobody touches me ever! Especially some scrawny little mama's boy!"

Oh no he didn't! (Snap snap).

"Look Crap Head, I'm just trying to help, and if we don't get it cleaned up, we'll never know if you have to go to the hospital!" I screamed in his face.

That wiped the scowl off his face, but not for the reason I thought.

"What's wrong with your voice?"

"Uh…say what now?"

"Your voice. You squeak like you're still going through puberty." He started laughing at this point, but that caused his nose to shift and he yelped in pain. I laughed mercilessly at his expense of course-even while I was kicking myself for my slip.

Note to self-never scream because it makes you sound like a girl.

Before I made a bigger fool of myself, I mumbled an apology (which earned me a bewildered look as he cleaned himself up) and stalked to my room.

When I got there, shock and disbelief were the only things that registered-I barely managed to contain my screams-and I flew back out to the kitchen in a rage equivalent to the fire created from a thousand suns.

"WHERE THE HECK IS ALL MY STUFF? YOU'D BETTER TELL ME NOW BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND RIP OUT YOUR SPLEEN."

His nose was cleaned up for the most part, with only a couple flecks of dried blood that he missed. What a good clotter? (I was jealous. I'm not ashamed to admit it.) He looked to be contemplating something (probably how many ways he could kill me and make it look like an accident) before he let out an exasperated sigh.

"I moved your stuff to the other room because I can't be in that room."

"They're exactly the same! You can't just go around moving people's stuff! It's an invasion of privacy!"

"If they're exactly the same, then what's the problem? You are such a little woman! Nag, nag, nag, just like my mother."

That killed my anger straight away-did I give myself away already? I was sure I was careful.

"What makes you think that um… (I was blanking on his name) guy?"

He had a crazed look before grudgingly grounding out some form of a reply.

"InuYasha."

"I'm Go. Now why did you move my stuff?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist! Your room is red and purple, the other one is blue and green. That's why."

"…"

"I get thrown into a blind rage at the sight of green."

"And you don't find that strange."

"Mind your own business! Get out of my way!" And so he stormed off into his room, mumbling expletives which I don't feel comfortable repeating, because let's face it. I'm innocent.

I was still pretty irate, so I tried a breathing pattern Rin taught me.

In with the good air-count one, two.

'_I hate him'_

Out with the bad-count three, four.

'_Arrogant jacka-Oops!'_

In with the good-five, s-

"Oi! I missed a bag!"

He came out of my-no _his­-_ room carrying a black duffel bag which was partially unzipped.

'_Oh crap'_

He must have noticed my eyes getting really big, because he glanced down at my bag which had my favorite lacey black bra on top. (Could this get any worse??)

He started reaching for the bra, but thought better of it and quickly retracted his hand and chucked the bag at my face, which caused all of my girl clothes to come flying out. They landed haphazardly around the room.

I was going to explain, but InuYasha held up his hand for silence. His eyebrows were lost somewhere up in his bangs, and he was smirking like the cat that got the cream.

"Oh no-no explanation needed. What you do in your own time is your own business."

I was still fish facing it, and no sound was escaping my throat.

"But-"He held up his hand again, turned around, and started walking back to his room. I chased after him, clutching the nearly empty duffel bag to my flat chest, but he only went faster and abruptly slammed the door in my face.

I ran face first into it and SPLAT fell back on the floor, which caused my left arm to come and smack me in the face. I now had an imprint of my watch face on my forehead.

That caused me to remember why I was here in the first place-I had band practice and now I was going to be late. Great. It was all InuYasha's fault but I swore revenge. He would not go unpunished. I smirked-ow ow-my face.

I had to meet Miroku, Shippou, and Kouga at the studio across the street from the hotel. There were a bunch of soundproof practice rooms there, so each band could practice for as loudly and for as long as they wanted.

I was late of course, so everyone was already there.

Shippou was a small red head with bright green eyes who looked younger than me-how the heck did he get into the contest? But so he that guy can lay a rhythm like no one else.

Kouga was on bass. He was about as tall as InuYasha, with a kind of bland blue eye color. (I've heard a lot of girls say Kouga's eyes were brilliant and bright, but don't believe them, it's a lie.)

Miroku was there too, in denim jeans and a loose fitting white t-shirt which had PORN STAR blazed across it in a crimson font.

Compensate much?

Anyway, after the introductions we plugged in our equipment and tuned up. Shippou slipped behind his drums. Kouga got his bass and stood in front and to the left of Shippou. I stood on Shippou's right with my guitar and Miroku stood in front of us with the mike.

We didn't know each other that well, so we just jammed for awhile. It was fantastic. Shippou was amazing, and Kouga wasn't too bad. Miroku didn't say too much, he just practiced his routine from _Saturday Night Fever_-and let me say, he puts John Travolta to shame.

There is nothing like playing music with complete strangers to bring you closer together. I mean that seriously. A person's soul comes out when they play. And if you're baring your soul, people are bound to learn things about you. Normally, this would bother me-baring my soul to strangers-but if you wanted to get by in Garage Band sacrifices had to be made.

After our impromptu jam session was over there were smiles all around. We didn't sound half bad!

But now it was time for the set list. Each band got to play three songs. They could be anything at all. Free for all!!

"I think we should pick something pretty new." Miroku said. "That way, we can get the crowd's attention by a song they all know."

"Yeah, but what about the classics? More people will know what the oldies are." Kouga clearly didn't agree.

But I liked Miroku's idea, so I decided to persuade with logic. Or, I would attempt to, because come on, I live in la la land.

"Guys, think about who we're playing to. Is it adults who've lived through the Golden Age, or a bunch of annoying teenagers who can't admit that they're emo?"

Shippou looked like he wanted to say something (probably about the emo remark) so I concluded with "Classic rock would make a great set list by itself, so the judges are probably going to force it on us eventually, so let's enjoy our freedom to choose while we can."

That did it.

Kouga slapped me on the back-hard. (MAN! I am such a pansy!) It made me flinch, and then he said "Go, you're a good man. I can see a long, fruitful relationship in front of us."

"My door don't swing that way dude."


End file.
